


tell me how you really feel

by Areiton



Series: Steter Week 2018 [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Break Up, First Date, Florist Peter Hale, Getting Together, Language of Flowers, M/M, Pre-Slash, Stiles is a Little Shit, Tattoo Artist Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 23:24:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15448161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: Peter has no idea who is sending these flowers--but he knows heloathesthe person he's sending them to.Or:Florist Peter is amused by Stiles' petty yet eloquent gift of flowers.





	tell me how you really feel

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I don't even know. Day 5? Florist/Tattoo AU (with a nod at NeckzNThroatz tossed in for the hell of it.

He spends maybe a week, watching. 

Boyd takes the deliveries once a day--roses and lilies, and peonies, and once, tulips. And every day, he comes back with a new order. 

It’d be romantic, if Peter wasn’t so painfully aware of what the flowers meant. 

The first day Boyd delivered a dozen red roses and he came back with an order of buttercups for the sender. 

The lilies were answered with yellow carnations. 

The peonies were answered with cyclamen, something that made Peter raise  his eyebrows. 

“Interesting,” he hums, and Boyd snorts. 

Tulips were the fourth day and Peter waits, almost impatiently, for Boyd’s return, and he comes back with a slip of pink paper and a smirk. “Petunias,” he says and Peter laughs, delighted. 

He selects them personally, arranges the bouquet with delicate care while Erica watches and sends Boyd back out. 

The white roses are classic and so virginal it makes Peter snort--but the response. The response is columbine and meadowsweet, and Peter laughs himself sick. 

“Do you think they’re going to get tired of this?” Erica asks, watching as Peter carefully selects the flowers. 

“Probably,” he says, trimming the meadowsweet. “But until then, you have to admit it’s fun.” 

“He’s sending an epic letter of hate and disdain,” Erica says, slowly, a smile on her lips and Peter smirks. 

“And isn’t it eloquent,” Peter murmurs. 

Erica cackles and kisses his cheek. “Boss, you’re amazing.” 

He hums agreeably and finishes the bouquet. 

 

~*~

 

Boyd is frowning when he enters, and Peter straightens. “What’s wrong?” 

“He ordered aconite,” Boyd says softly, and the joke comes to a crashing halt. 

 

~*~

 

Peter slips into Stilish Inks. There’s a familiar bouquet on the counter, and a pretty dark haired girl standing at the counter. Tattoos snake up her arm, arrows and primrose, a mandala that catches his gaze and scrawling French. Delicate lacework trails down her fingers. “Welcome to Stilish. Do you have an appointment?” 

Peter smiles and shakes his head. Taps the vase. “I’m here to see the owner of these.” 

Her goodwill falls away like a chalkboard wiped clean. “Are you sending them?” 

“I’m the florist,” Peter says, and isn’t that interesting. “And I have a question concerning an order he made.” 

She huffs and twists. “Stiles!” 

Two heads pop up. One is dark and scruffy, with crooked jaw and narrow eyes, and a lip ring that flashes when he frowns. 

The other--

Peter’s breath catches. He’s pale, with dark messy hair, a silver hoop in his eyebrow and lip, and sharp, cleer golden eyes. Tattoos curl down his long pale throat and vanish into his shirt, and Peter wants to trace them with his claws and tongue. 

A wolf is snarling on the forearm braced on the wall, the colors spilling and bleeding into each other like watercolor. 

He’s gorgeous. 

“What’s up, Allycat?” 

She nods at Peter. “Flower boy wants you.” 

Stiles’ gaze narrows, but he nods, and ambles forward. “You aren’t my dickbag ex, so what can I do for you, flower man?” 

Peter bristles at the casually dismissive name, and then remembers why he’s here. “I don’t sell aconite.” 

Sharply intelligent eyes narrow. “Because you’re a werewolf. Right. Well, I’m running out of ways to tell the dickbag I’m not going back to his cheating ass.” 

A smirk curled the edges of Stiles lips, and he wants to lick it. Wants to bite at the long line of his throat. It belongs in a goddamn Neckz magazine, Peter thinks. 

Clears his throat. 

“A bouquet of butterfly weed, burdock, and bellwort. With candytuft and furze. And perhaps,” Peter smiles, and slips a slim copy of  _ The Language of Flowers _ across the counter. “A clue.” 

Stiles grins. “Do you think it’d help?” 

“If it doesn’t, you can beat him over the head with it,” Peter says, and Stiles laughs, a long bright noise that makes his heart jerk. 

“If you want to send a clearer message, you could always date someone else,” Peter says, and Stiles’ eyes go lazy and warm. 

“You offerin’, flower man?” 

Peter nods, his mouth dry. “Yes.” 

 

~*~

 

On their first date, Peter gives Stiles a sprig of crocus and hawthorn and Stiles went visibly soft, a fond warmth in his eyes that Peter didn’t think he’d ever get tired of. 

Six months later, he left a cluster of ipomoea and honeysuckle on Stiles’ pillow. 

A month later, he peels Stiles henley off and finds a spray of lavender and mallow tattooed around his wolf’s paws, and he tackles the boy to his bed and breathes against his mouth, “Marry me.” 

Stiles smiles, bright and blinding. 

The night before the wedding, Peter lays down for Stiles, and Stiles’ eyes shine as he tattoos heliotrope around the fox running down Peter’s ribs. 

**Author's Note:**

> Meanings of Stiles' and Peter's flowers: 
> 
> Buttercups: childishness  
> Yellow Carnations: rejections, disdain  
> Cyclamen: separation  
> Petunias: resentment, anger  
> Columbine deserted love  
> Meadowsweet: uselessness  
> Aconite: Hatred, be cautious  
> Butterfly weed: leave me  
> Burdock: boredom  
> Bellwort: hopelessness  
> Candytuft: Indifference  
> Furze: anger  
> Crocus: gladness  
> Hawthorn: hope  
> Ipomoea: I belong to thee  
> Honeysuckle: devoted love  
> Lavender: constancy  
> Mallow: deep in love  
> Heliotrope: Eternal love


End file.
